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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218432">of wines, summer suns and names</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsBlackLeader/pseuds/itsBlackLeader'>itsBlackLeader</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The wine country 'verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bruce is a winemaker, M/M, Tony loves wine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:40:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsBlackLeader/pseuds/itsBlackLeader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That day, Tony made many important discoveries.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The wine country 'verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>of wines, summer suns and names</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/6019036">Names for the Stars</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesethesecond/pseuds/cheesethesecond">cheesethesecond</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thanks to my beta, annika!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce always liked the way his mother said his name. He could still hear her soft voice murmuring his name in his head ; Bruce recalls a time his name in his mother’s voice felt like flying. It was elevating, he couldn’t get enough of the sweetness of her voice tangled with the sun and the smell of grapes whenever she would run after the little runaway boy through the vines. He couldn’t have been older than four, maybe five years old, and he felt just like he could reach the stars, right here, right now. </p><p>It was some of Bruce’s happiest memories.</p><p>Bruce also liked his father’s deep voice uttering his name. He felt privileged when his father addressed him with a mischievous look. He still remembers how it felt like to grin back at his dad. The boy felt important and powerful, there in the winery’s caves, draped over his father shoulders and watching him brew the grapes that would, in a few months time, become the good wine he still couldn’t taste, but knew brought his parents and their friends Alfred and Lucius great pride and joy. </p><p>When Bruce came back from San Francisco more than a fifteen years later, his universe had shifted from its axis a long time ago. He always felt out of balance. Little Bruce with his head in the clouds and stars in his eyes was no more. From now on, people greeted him with handshakes, a nod from the head and the ever plain “<em>Mister Wayne </em> ”. He heard it pronounced on so many occasions, <em> Mis</em>ter Wayne here, Mister <em> Wayne </em> , Mister <em> Way</em>ne there, Mis <em> ter </em>Wayne again and again and again. It rolled easy off the tongue, the feeling of both his birthright and his future encapsulated in these five adjoined letters. </p><p>Bruce shoulders his name with pride. He is a Wayne by blood and by choice, the legacy of his parents’ name surviving through him. He likes the soft sound of his name murmured among other winemakers whenever he makes his presence known. Bruce had heard his name a thousand times, spoken in just as many different voices, uttered in dozens of accents. He could hear fear in his name when breathed by the competition during wine contests, delight when called by friends and he remembered hearing despair in the voice of a little boy watching himself murmur his name in front of the mirror when he thought the weight of his name would be too heavy a burden to carry.</p><p>And then Tony shouted “<em>Bruce! </em>” from across the cave. The winemaker looks up. All too suddenly and ever so softly at that time, the axis of his world is put back in place.</p><p>Bruce never wants to hear it in any other way ever again.</p><p>“Bruce,” Tony breaths, “I was looking for you.” </p><p>All of Bruce’s bravado evapores in a quarter of a second. The panther-like personality of a conqueror Bruce has spent so many sleepless nights to build disappears ; in its place, once again young boy Bruce, all shy and sheepish whenever someone would dare talk to him. He recalls the gentle touch of solide hands on both his little shoulders and the encouraging smiles his father would give him and him only, the love in his mother’s voice and the shining pride in her features when he took a step forward. </p><p>“Tony”, and their gazes connect. Tentative smiles split both faces, and neither dares to move for a second. Time stops for a moment. Or maybe is it the other way around, the unique moment stopping the ever fleeting time. </p><p>“Alfred told me I would probably find you here,” Tony breaks the silence and for an instant Bruce thinks that one of them talking would shatter the tentative thing that emerged between them. But it doesn’t. On the contrary. </p><p>Bruce always felt deep. He wonders ; is he the only one who feels like his heart could explode in thousands of tiny suns, bathing his chest in light and warm? Those tiny moments make him tick. Bruce isn’t one for huge moments, the devil is in the details. </p><p>Another tentative smile creeps on his face. “What are you doing here? Were you looking for me?”, he asks, curious, and once again warm with delight. </p><p>“Oh you know, same old, same old. Was in the area and actually, just wanted to see you. What are you doing?” Tony says and Bruce knows the question isn’t empty. Even though wines and wineries aren’t Tony’s scene, Bruce could tell he was genuinely interested and that he wanted to learn. </p><p>“I was thinking about blending together some grapes varieties to create something new,” Bruce tells Tony. </p><p>From the courtyard, Tony thought the beautiful wooden door was mysterious, but the man couldn’t imagine what he would find behind. He fantasized hundreds of different possibilities ; he pictured dozens of things he was sure wouldn’t turn out to be true. European medieval wineries emerged in his thoughts like cathedrals from the ground, old fashioned barrels of many sizes and shapes aligned on the top of each other in Tony’s mind, mixed with modern-day stainless equipment.</p><p>The lack of light had caught him off guard once he pushed the wooden door closed and stepped inside. The mystery surrounding Wayne’s cave just became thicker and thicker. Bruce had been easy to spot, hunched back above the desk in the only well-lighted area of the cave.</p><p>“So this is where the magic happens?”</p><p>Bruce laughs.</p><p>“No, not really. It starts well before you get in the cave. Come with me,” he grins at Tony and Tony couldn’t help but grin back. Bruce takes him by the shoulders and leads him out of the cave where the sun shines bright and hot. The winemaker loves days like this. He recalls days of innocence of coming home just after school finished, throwing away his satchel and running through the grapes in search of his father. He still remembers being blinded by the light on days like this ; even though he couldn’t be sure if the blinding came from the sun or from his mother’s bright laugh telling him that their friend the sun was in love with their friend the ground and from that love emerged the grapes.</p><p>“Come, I’ll show where it begins.”</p><p>_________________</p><p>That day, Tony made many important discoveries. Bruce takes him by the arm and together they walk through endless plots of vines. Tony learns that the Waynes' lands were home to many grape varieties. The affectionate Chardonnay and its dreamy late-summer scent was Bruce’s only white variety ; an homage to his beloved late mother. The winemaker reveals that after countless nights of reflection in search of a name for the blend, he finally found perfection in his mother’s first name. </p><p>Its production is limited, Chardonnay grapes gave way to varieties such as the red-fruits-flavored Pinot Noir, the well loved Sonoma classic Cabernet Sauvignon, the spicy Zinfandel and Bruce’s favorite, the Syrah grapes. Tony’s head is already spinning with all these varieties and Bruce grins. “There’s over sixty different varieties growing here, in Sonoma’s county,” he says. </p><p>Love for his grapes radiates from Bruce’s every mouvement. Gentleness in his caressing hands that hold ripening grapes. Protectiveness from his whole upper body when hunched over the vines. Adoration in caressing hazel eyes. Tony knows that instant that Bruce would give his life, his blood and his soul to his lands. </p><p>This is Bruce’s home and from his way to talk about it, Tony could only guess that Bruce wanted to share it with him. The ever so mysterious man Tony first learned to know as Mr Wayne, poster-child of Sonoma’s wine country slowly morphed into Bruce Wayne, wine magician with unerring purpose and talent, and evolves into Bruce, just Bruce. Bruce, who Tony could laugh with. Bruce, the sun-tanned hard-working man behind Sonoma’s best wines. Bruce, who would talk about anything and everything and still managed to be interesting. Bruce, whose voice mezmerised Tony, whose inner magnetism fascinated Tony. Bruce, who Tony just wanted to know better and learn everything there is to learn.</p><p>And he does. God knows he does. Bruce’s love affair with his land was born from his parents' own passion. Tony pictures a tiny legged boy hiding under the vines, intoxicated with the grapes’ scent and laughing under the sun. He imagines an older Bruce seeking comfort in what he had left, in his parents’ lands that now were his and Tony’s heart aches in his chest. He thinks of a young adult in need of making a name for himself, paying homage and escaping his parents’ legacy in the same beat. He was clearly just getting started. And in front of him ; Tony sees Bruce, a man who tempered his despair with hopes for the future, whose sheer passion for winemaking awakened something deep and purposeful in his fellow winemakers.</p><p>Tony doesn’t know why ; but Bruce moves him for reasons that go beyond the matter of talent and charisma. Bruce represents something Tony longed for ; he could feel it inside his chest, Bruce is home. Thoughts of his home in Los Angeles invades his mind. He can’t believe that, after just a few weeks here in the wine country, Tony feels more at home than he ever felt in the city and that one day, not so long ago, he once really considered it as his home. </p><p>Inner peace flows from Tony since he made his way up to the valley. Trotting through endless blushing grapes behind a man Tony considers larger than life, he knows he doesn’t want to go back. He finally knows he found a place where he feels he can be himself.</p><p>As they never stop to walk, Bruce throws himself with ease into explanations of the different qualities of his grapes, how the harvest season goes, and the barreling of the grapes. Back in the courtyard again, the winemaker stands against the heavy door of his cave.</p><p>“This,” Tony begins, opening his arms to encapsulate all of Bruce’s lands, “It really feels like home. Before I came here, I didn’t even really know what home was, and I see you here and now I understand.”</p><p>“I guess I could say the winery has always been my home. Although, truth to be told, I didn’t consider it home after, you know…”</p><p>Tony nods, sliding both of his hands in his pockets. Tony’s thoughts slip once again away to busy LA. He stays silent for a moment, awakened by Bruce pushing against the heavy door leading inside the cave.</p><p>“Wanna see how you mature wine and blend things together?” Bruce asks, disappearing in the dark. Tony glances over his shoulders to the vines, and smiles. He hears Bruce say his name once again. </p><p>Tony discovers Bruce says his name like coming home.</p>
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